War Paint and Other Survival Tools
by Alex and Pen
Summary: They were just children playing soldier. Jet and his ragtag group of Freedom Fighter weren't helping anyone, just picking up the pieces. But when a report of a Fire Nation patrol comes in, will they be in time? A series of one-shots centered around everyone's favorite Freedom Fighters detailing their lives, trials, and relationships. Rated T to be safe. Longshot/Smellerbee


**A/N: Hello! So this will be my place to get out all my little plot bunnies that have been jumping around in my head for years. There may be a lot of chapters, there may not… It depends on my time, effort, and general attention span. Generally, they'll be Longshot/Smellerbee centric. Since no age was ever given for any of the characters besides Jet, I took my liberty with this. Jet and Longshot are around 12, and Smellerbee somewhere in the neighborhood of 11. **

**Disclaimer: So after many years of plotting, scheming, and other various forms of thinking… I realized there was no way I ever could own something as awesome as Avatar: The Last Airbender… Damn.**

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Everyone was on edge today. Sneaks, the ragtag band's best scout, had found the Fire Nation patrol early. That given them time. But was it enough time? Longshot was beginning to believe there was no such thing. Always they were the ones picking up the pieces, helping the too few survivors. But except for the few Fire Nation supply wagons they intercepted, they had never taken down a patrol yet. Although, it's not like the four teenagers with hardly any proper weapons between them stood a chance against a real patrol. But no one admitted that. And after nearly half a day of continuous march, they were here, on the edge of the forest.

All they could smell was smoke. They were always too late.

The woods were hazy with the thick, black smoke. But the team could just barely make out the small village in the clearing before them. His eyes and throat were already burning, both from the smoke and from his own memories. He wet a rag and held it over his mouth. The archer looked at Jet, and then to Pipsqueak and Sneers. Longshot could see fear on their faces, just as his own. Despite their ideals, their mission, their convictions, no one wanted to see what most likely awaited them in that village. Even though they had seen it before, even though they had seen it in their own villages once, no one wanted to see the destruction left behind. Because, despite their attempts to be otherwise, they were just children playing solider.

But then Jet set his jaw, and motioned them forward. He whispered to them, "Spread out and look for survivors. If you see one of the bastards, show no mercy."

There had been rain the night before, which was the most likely culprit behind the thick veils of smoke that made their task so hard. Going by the smoldering debris, they were no more than a day behind them. Carefully, house by house, they checked the dead. But the Fire Nation troops had done their job well. Not only was every villager they came across dead, but anything of value was gone as well. They never stood a chance. It was slow and grueling work, but they blindly kept stumbling forward looking for survivors. Sneers muttered somewhere to his left, "Spirits, they're all dead."

He tried not to think about it as he made his way into the next house. It was slightly nicer than some of the others, perhaps the home of a merchant, but now it looked ready to collapse on itself. Carefully he eased his way past the burnt door into the main room. The room was completely destroyed. Beams and debris cluttered the floor blocking his path to the back of the house. The archer didn't look long at the farthest corner of the room, where the home's inhabitants laid. Solemnly, he climbed over the smoldering debris to check the two smaller rooms in the back of the home. The first was just as destroyed as the main room had been. There was no way to check this room, but going by what he had already found, he had already found its occupants. Hesitantly, he turned to stand in front the second door. He hadn't found anyone else in the home, although truly, he didn't look very hard. Did that still mean a child could be waiting for him behind this door? Was he too late for this one too? He tried to swallow, but his raw throat refused to cooperate.

But if there was someone alive behind this door… They needed him. He could finally stop pretending to be a soldier and actually help someone. Jet would've already been in this room. He had to be brave. Longshot steeled his nerve, his hand hovering just above the door handle, before finally pushing it open.

This room was relatively untouched by some rare miracle, although smoke still curled slowly from the slightly charred walls. He could tell it had been a girl's room, by the once rosy color of the walls and the singed dresses strewn across the floor. Although, on closer inspection, only two of these "dresses" were actually dresses, the rest were tunics and pants thrown haphazardly everywhere. But there was one key thing missing from the room, its inhabitant. He finally let out the breath he had been holding. Whoever had lived here hadn't been a victim of the Fire Nation's carnage. She may have been staying in another village. Maybe she ran away.

Or, more likely she was lying dead somewhere close by.

Another example of how they were no help to any of these people. At the end of the day, they were still dead and the Freedom Fighters were left with too many bodies to bury. He let out a frustrated growl, slamming a fist into the door frame. The blackened wood crackled under the pressure. He just wanted all this killing to stop. Damn the Fire Nation and their war. He finally turned away, heading towards the back door of the house. There was nothing more he could do here.

Longshot pushed the door open, already dreading checking the next house. He didn't know how long he had lingered, but the others were probably going to start looking for him soon. The smoke had gotten thicker, or maybe it was just getting darker, but now he could hardly see anything in the gloom. Suddenly, before he realized what was happening, he was falling.

All the air was forced out of his lungs as the archer landed on the ground in a heap, his limbs tangled together with something. Then, the _something_ moved. He gasped, trying to scramble backwards, but tiny fists began battering him. A voice was screeching at him, "Killers! Murderer! I'll kill you!" He could hear Jet's voice, calling out to him from a distance. However, his assailant drowned out whatever his friends were yelling with his screaming. Fists kept slamming into his sides, his chest, anything they could reach.

In the dim gloom, he could just make out the form of the child, still screaming abuses at him. "Killer! Killer! Killer!" He didn't want to restrain the child and risk scaring him more. Where the hell were Jet and the others? He held up his hand defensively, trying to make himself understood. A well-aimed punch hit him squarely in the eye. Longshot fell away from the punch, scrambling backwards. _We're the good guys! _

The attack stopped suddenly, the air silent again as the screeching tirade of abuse stopped. Harsh, ragged breaths were coming from his left, where the child now stood. He could hear his friends calling to him, practically upon them.

"Longshot!" Jet finally appeared out of the smoke, followed closely by Pipsqueak and Sneers. "Spirits man, are you ok?" He doubled over, out of breath from their run. He gave a quick nod_. I'm fine, but there's a survivor._ The others squinted into the hazy, suddenly aware of the new boy's presence. Jet crouched down, giving his trademark smile, before saying softly, "Hey there. Sorry if we scared you. We're the good guys."

"That's what your friend said." The child's voice was raspy, most likely from all the smoke he had inhaled. At this rate, all of them would have no voice if they didn't leave soon. Jet gave him a questioning look, but Longshot didn't return it. He didn't mind having someone else who understood him for a change.

"Yea, now let's get you out of here." Jet gave a cautious look around at the others, suddenly unsure of himself. "I-Is your family here?" The question hung in the air heavily before the group. The boy nodded slowly, before raising a trembling finger at the house Longshot had just checked. He, no _she_, finally stepped close enough for Longshot to see.

Her dress, which had once been beautiful, was torn and blackened from the fires. Her brown hair was long, but the fire had burnt its edges. She was maybe a year or two younger than him at the most, although it was hard to tell due to the layer of grim and ash that coated her skin. Longshot wasn't sure how she managed to survive, but her tiny limbs showed the trials of the previous day. Cuts and bruises crisscrossed her bare legs. And, Spirits, _Her hands_.

Large blisters covered the surface of the angry, red skin. Longshot placed a hand on his own arm, remembering the achingly similar burns he had once suffered. Sneers caught his look, and immediately set down his pack.

"We're not going anywhere until we see to those burns," he mumbled, taking out their precious medical supplies. He carefully began to clean and bandage her wounds as the others slowly settled down around them. One look at Jet told him that their leader was just itching to ask questions. While understanding of what this girl was now going through, he knew his leader would stop at nothing to get information that might just save someone else's life.

"So… I guess all the bad guys were firebenders, huh," he asked quietly, trying to gently breach the subject. Sneers shot him a dirty look, but continued to work quietly.

"I don't know. I ran away before they got here," she replied slowly.

"When did you get the burns?"

"When I got back," she stated sharply, the shortness of it telling them the subject was effectively closed.

But Jet leaned slightly closer as he asked, "So you never saw them?" The girl shook her head. "Well then how did you know they were coming?"

The girl suddenly stiffened, as if she took Jet's question as an attack. She snapped back at him, "I smelled them. Got a problem with that?"

He held up his hands in surrender, grinning, before saying, "Nope. I'm glad we've got a little Smellerbee with us now. She's got quite a sting, huh Longshot?" Longshot gave him an irritated glare, knowing full well his eye was already swelling from the blow she gave him. But he had to agree, it could be an appropriate name for the girl, if she decided to join their ragtag them.

Maybe, one day, they could make a half decent fighter out of her. Who knows… Because, for once, they had all the time in the world to find out.

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**A/N: So…What did you think? Please, give me any comments, ideas, or suggestions you may have on how I can improve for next time. That's what I'd really love. Help me become a better writer so I can entertain you! Read and review…**


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